The Gorehound
by MacComie
Summary: The Blood God has sent one of his greatest champions to Azeroth. The question is, why?
1. Arrival

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to the Warhammer 40000 universe, which is the exclusive property of Games Workshop Ltd. I do not own anything pertaining to the Warcraft universe, which is the exclusive property of Blizzard Entertainment, Inc.**

Chapter 1: Arrival

_The region of Netherstorm was a verdant open range called the Fields of Farahlon until Draenor was ripped apart. Normally imperceptible to mortals, the Twisting Nether bled into the physical realm and unleashed a tumultuous arcane storm that warped the surrounding territory. The Blood Elves are now using the technology of a captured Naaru vessel to harness the storm's magic, further compromising the already unstable land._

The storm is unnatural, that much is certain. My sensors tell me there is no electrostatic charge to cause this much lightning, leaving some form of sorcery as the only answer. But I am puzzled. There is no trace of the glorious taint of Chaos here, only this odd lightning, a purple sky, and pale blue crystals jutting out of the ground. Even the earth under my boots is purple. This place certainly looks like a Daemon World, but there is no trace of Chaos, and most importantly, no daemons. This must be some sort of test.

Yes, that's it. A test, set down by the Great God to see if I am worthy to carry on the Long War in his name. Why else would I suddenly find myself here, bereft of everything save my armor, my knife, and my chainsword? I must find my enemy in this strange world and slay him. Then, I would be seen as worthy. I stop and close my eyes, trusting my other senses to lead me to my opponent. The crunch of packed earth underfoot. A faint scream. I open my eyes, grinning.

There is no hiding from Chaos.

-o0o-

Jorad Mace, ex-paladin and mercenary, was not having a very good day. First that damned Netherdragon Veraku had nearly bitten his head off when he went to use the bathroom, then Tyri had gotten a message from Malygos himself declaring war on all magical spellcasters, then she had collapsed and wouldn't wake up. No matter what kind of healing spell he cast, the dragoness-in-disguise had stubbornly refused to awaken, choosing instead to toss and turn fitfully. That was ten minutes ago, and still there was no change. Jorad sighed. This really wasn't his day.

-o0o-

I move silently, creeping closer towards my opponents. A human male dressed an outrageous suit of gold armor is sitting next to a female wearing the unique combination of a blue shirt, blue stockings, and blue thong and nothing else. She is tossing and turning, as if in the throes of a nightmare. Odd, but I have seen stranger in my long career as a servant of the Brass King. I shift from my kneeling position, preparing to burst from my hiding place and cut both of them down. Suddenly, the girl sits up and screams again. I tense, gripping my chainsword tighter. If she doesn't stop screaming, I will charge down there and silence her, element of surprise or no.

-o0o-

"Tyri calm down!" Jorad screamed. Without warning, the dragoness-in-disguise had jerked upright and started screaming loudly.

"Tyri!" he screamed again. Finally, she managed to calm down. "Now, what's wro—"

"Jorad, we have to go!" Tyri said.

With an ominous sense of doom in the back of his mind, Jorad spluttered, "What? Where? Why?"

"I h—ugh—I had a vision." Said Tyri.

"What kind of vision?" Jorad asked warily.

"There was a—" Tyri choked, feeling her gorge rise. "There was blood. Everywhere. Lakes and oceans and rivers of it, and a mountain of skulls and a fire and the End of All Things and red fiends and beasts of living metal and—"

Jorad interrupted. "No, Tyri. It was all just a vision, you're safe now."

Tyri stared at him, trembling. "No. No, we're not. _He's_ here."

Jorad stared back, uncomprehending. "Who?"

"The Gorehound." Tyri opened her eyes, shuddering. "We have to go. _Now._"

-o0o-

It sounds like the girl had a vision of the Fortress of Khorne. No wonder she wouldn't stop her pathetic whining. A psyker, perhaps? No matter. Her head will roll all the same.

I thumb the activation switch of my toothed weapon, listening, as the growl of the motors becomes a roar. Then I burst from my hiding place, knife in one hand, chainsword in the other. The Brass King would see that I, Hamilcar, was worthy of his favour! As His divine touch floods my mind, I scream the terrible, beautiful battlecry that heralds death and destruction, my vox-speakers nearly overloading with the fervor of my voice.

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!"

-o0o-

Jorad fancied himself to be a capable fighter. Hell, he knew he was a capable fighter. But he also knew when he was outclassed. And from the moment this eight-foot tall suit of armor came barreling through the mist, literally screaming bloody murder, Jorad knew that he was outclassed in the same way a man with a sword is outclassed by High Overlord Saurfang. They may be the same size, but the man is going to die.

Fortunately for Tyri, Jorad was alright with dying, since Tyri could always turn into a dragon and fly away. All he had to do was delay the giant red…thing until Tyri was safely away. Jorad hefted his sword. At least this was a better death than being eaten by a nether drake.

-o0o-

I almost laughed. If the pathetic man in his pretty gold suit expects delay me, he is sorely mistaken. I close in, crossing ten feet in the space of a second. He conjures a golden hammer and throws it at me, but I manage to awkwardly roll to the left. Is he a psyker too? But I ruthlessly crush the question, because it doesn't matter. He will die reguardless. I rise to charge again, but the girl appears in front of me in a flash of light, and screeches something unintelligible. Gods I hate that voice!

My thoughts are cut short as an invisible force slams into me, sending me smashing through a crystal pillar and into the side of the hill. As I struggle to extricate myself from the impression I have made in the hillside my mind turns to the abilities of my quarry. Conjuration, telekinesis, and teleportation. Definitely a psyker.

-o0o-

Jorad sighed in relief. Tyri had Blinked in front of him and cast some crazy magic that sent the red giant crashing into the hillside. It wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

"Come on, Jorad!" Tyri didn't share his confidence in her abilities, it seemed. Jorad turned around, and suddenly found himself face-to-face with a large blue dragon.

_Get on. _said Tyri, using her mental powers to communicate. The paladin looked dubiously at the row of spikes along the dragoness's spine.

"You sure?" said Jorad.

_Now!_ Tyri screamed into Jorad's mind, desperation creeping into her voice. Jorad risked a glance over his shoulder. The giant was almost on its feet! Jorad quickly clambered up onto the dragoness's back.

"Go!" he shouted. Tyri, or Tyrygosa as she was known, gladly obliged.

-o0o-

For the first time in five millennia, I am surprised. The screaming bitch had just transformed into a large blue reptile and flown away with the useless man on her back. But that was not the cause of my surprise. For the first time ever, an enemy had escaped my grasp when I engaged them in personal combat. A roar claws its way out of my throat, and I lash out angrily with my chainsword, destroying a nearby crystal. So close! If that whore hadn't used her cowardly magicks, I would've cleaved her in two, and her ridiculous companion. I stop and take a deep breath to calm myself, and begin to analyze my opponents, seeking an explenation as to why I failed to kill them. They both appeared to be powerful psykers. The reptile-woman wielded especially powerful magic. She could _change_ her form. Then, it came to me.

They were in the service of Tzeentch!

I snarl. No servant of that scheming, backstabbing bastard would ever get the better of me! I turn and begin running in the direction that the Changeling had taken only to stop. In front of me stands a formidable ridge over which I can see that whore and her minion flying away. I growl, and sprint towards the ridge, and notice a winding path that leads to the top. As I begin the long climb up the path, one thought reassures me.

She can't fly forever.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Chapter revised and updated.**


	2. Objective

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to the Warhammer 40000 universe, which is the exclusive property of Games Workshop Ltd. I do not own anything pertaining to the Warcraft universe, which is the exclusive property of Blizzard Entertainment, Inc.**

Chapter 2: Objective

As I stride up the path, I look around to observe this new world. The first thing I notice is a large collection of islands floating in midair. I sneer at such an obvious display of sorcery. The arrogance of those weaklings truly knows no bounds. A growl of surprise interrupts my mental tirade. I look up.

A large shimmering blue reptile is standing on the path I front of me, and my autosenses are telling me that this…_thing_ is phasing in and out of existence. As its growl of curiosity turns menacing, I smile behind my helmet and raise my chainsword.

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!"

A quick swipe embeds my chainsword in the thing's skull, ending the fight before it even began. As its body crumples to the ground I stare disappointedly. Such weakness is sickening. A second growl draws my attention, and I look up. Ah. There's more than one.

-o0o-

Countless bodies later, only one last phase-lizard remains. It roars and lunges forward, its jaws spread wide in an attempt to bury its fang in my ribcage. A ridiculous attempt, and one that comes to a brutal end as I simply shove my chainsword down its gullet, its teeth tearing a bloody path as it rev the motor. The reptile drowns in its own blood as its jaws feebly gnaw at my arm. My gauntlets resists all attempts to be pierced, and even breaks a few of the reptile's teeth.

As I wrench my arm from the creature's maw, a growl of disgust escapes my lips. So weak! All of them, slow and clumsy as a pregnant grox! If I am to die on this strange world, I am sure to have many years ahead of me, since so far nothing seems to be more dangerous than an Imperial Guardsman armed with nothing but that ridiculous book they are required to carry.

_Fortunately for you, Hamilcar of the Gorehounds, there are things on this world more dangerous than a Guardsman. And yes, you will face some in combat._

I whirl around, chainsword drawn and roaring with anger. "Who said that?"

_Now, now, mortal, put the weapon away. You can't hurt what isn't in your plane of existence._

I snarl, uncaring. "Show yourself!"

I hear the telepathic equivalent of a sigh. _I remember when I was that insistent…_

Suddenly, a ghostly image appears before me. A sharply gaunt, inhuman face with a long cranium that extends back over the being's shoulders. Two long, black horns flare out to the side before curving back alongside the hideously elongated cranium. The head perches on a thin, wiry neck that connected to an equally wiry body, all of which is clothed in skin the color of freshly spilled blood. A Bloodletter of Khorne, or what looks very much like a Bloodletter at any rate.

I lower my chainsword, still wary. This may still be an illusion concocted by some foul minion of Tzeentch. The image bares its teeth in a hideous attempt at a smile.

_But no longer. So tell me, Hamilcar…_ It leans closer. _Would you like to know why you are here?_

I growl. "My purpose for existence is to spill blood and claim skulls for Khorne, so that his name may be glorified."

The image laughs. _Good, good! A servant who knows his calling. However, I was asking whether you would like to know why you are here, in this strange place._

I hesitate, and the image grins again, guessing my thoughts. _You think me an illusion crafted by a servant of the Great Coward to lead you astray?_ _Fear not. I swear by the End of All Things that I am a Bloodletter of Khorne, not some pitiful caricature._

I finally relax. To swear an oath on the sword of the Brass King is to tempt his eternal wrath, whether you break that oath or not. The fact that his image has yet to be devoured by the Hound of Vengeance says that he was not only an actual Bloodletter, but also a mighty warrior, well respected in the ranks of daemons.

"Hn. You dare much to swear by His sword.", I say.

_Well, I am a lieutenant of U'zhul's, _the Bloodletter preened. I raise an eyebrow. Second only to the most powerful of Bloodletters? A mighty warrior indeed.

_But enough about me_, said the Bloodletter. _Let's talk about you. In a nutshell, you have been sent to this world to bring its inhabitants to the worship of Khorne. You must find the strongest warriors, the most dangerous monsters, the most powerful sorcerers, and slay them in the name of Khorne. Then all will see that your strength is Khorne's strength, and your god is the one god. Do this, and you will be rewarded._

I stand, silent. "…I must find the strongest enemies this world has to offer, and kill them?"

_Exactly. The rest will take care of itself._ said the Bloodthirster.

Slowly, a bloodthirsty grin spreads across my face. "I think I can manage that."

The daemon returns my grin, even though it is hidden behind my helmet. _Excellent. If you require additional information, feel free to contact me._

"How?", I ask.

S_imply make a sacrifice and invoke my name, which in its full form is unpronounceable by mortal tongues. For the sake of convinience, you may call me Ash'baal. Oh, and my first piece of advice would be to find a local advisor as soon as possible. One who has lived in this place all his life will undoubtedly know where the most dangerous beasts and men are._

-o0o-

Jorad clung desperately to the neck of the large blue dragon he was currently perched upon. Tyrygosa was flying as hard as she could towards the Dark Portal, and as a result, Jorad was being mercilessly buffeted by the wind. Jorad grit his teeth and tightened his grip. _We have to tell the Alliance about that thing, so don't fall off now, Jorad. _he thought to himself. Little did he know that they would be the only ones to bring news from the Outland for a long, long time.

* * *

**Author's Notes: The long update time is inexcusable, but, in my defense, I spent the last two months living in hotels and traveling by plane to three different continents with sporadic internet access. The next Chapter will regrettably be delayed for about a week, due to crappy internet.**


	3. Dropped the Ball

**Author's Note:**

**I am restarting this fic.**

**Yes, you did read correctly. After a huge period of procrastination, I took a step back and examined the fic in its entirety, and realized that Hamilcar had appeared WAY too far away from the critical area. If I had continued the story from where it is now, well, you would get to read three chapters of Hamilcar walking from the Netherstorm to Hellfire Penninsula and killing everything in his path. While this would be slightly humorous the first seven times it happened, eventually it would become boring and pointless. Therefore, I am rewriting the fic with the intent of having Hamilcar appear somewhere in Hellfire Penninsula. I will not be posting a new story, but will be editing the chapters, so no updates for a while (not that I update like any decent author should). Thank you for not giving up on Hamilcar and I and if you already have, we understand perfectly. Well, I do. Asking a Khornate berserker to understand is probably not the best of choices.**

**StGene**


End file.
